The Look that Keeps the Sun Shining
by Katieelessar
Summary: ‘Even when the night is dark, the day brings new comings.’ OneShot of how ObiWan can cope with his master’s solo mission. A little fluff story, courtesy of a cutesy bunny. Please R&R!


_Title: The Look that Keeps the Sun Shinning_

_Author: Katieelessar_

_Rating: G_

_Time Period: JA, Obi-Wan's is 16 or so_

_Category: General/Angst/Cutesy_

_Summary: 'Even when the night is dark, the day brings new comings.' One-Shot of how Obi-Wan can cope with his master's solo mission. A little fluff story, courtesy of a cutesy bunny._

_Author's Note: I felt the need for some mush-ish/sweet stuff. So this little bunny popped up._

_Disclaimers: I own everything in this story…maybe in an afterlife after I've been reincarnated from a Jawa to a Jedi to a brilliant director named George Lucas…maybe then…_

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**The Look that Keeps the Sun Shinning**

He stirred his food with indolence, emitting a vanquished sigh. The raw matter in his bowl swirled with the driving currents his spoon was making, looking very much like a morning fog on a seashore. If one were to ask him what his feelings were behind that distressed sigh he would have compared himself to the swirling mush in his bowl—distorted and tumultuous.

The senior Padawan gazed at the nearly empty food hall. The early morning hours had allowed him some company but the other occupants did little to quench his overwhelming loneliness. None had come to his small table in the corner of the room for a conversation or pleasantries and for once, he cared not, a glance from his raging eyes were enough to stop any of the liking.

But at the same time, this starving isolation was begging to be fed with company. The one who was once there to satisfy him was no longer within conversation range and unless he made an effort, the situation would remain the same. He had tried to spend his empty hours with study and training but those seemed dead to him without his dearest friend at his side. Even sleep had been do sanctuary from his conquering disquietude and had decreed him to lay awake for hours upon layered hours in insomnia.

So here he was, sitting in the early hours of the morning, stirring the bland concoction in front of him to pass the slow moving time. He sighed and laid down his spoon. This was his most pathetic attempt yet to rid his mind of his burden. He wished earnestly that his master would return soon, oh Force, very soon.

The reason for his worry was not that he doubted his master to handle the situation—indeed the truth was far from that assumption. He had seen his master through the darkest and grimmest situations and had realized—and was still yet realizing—that he held limits of fortitude that he had not seen any match, unless that were the high Council members, but even so, he thought his master was entitled to some preeminence over the Jedi. Every vein in his body flowed with his ordained Jedi path.

So no, his worry was not because of his master's inability to handle the mission by himself, it was prompted by his conventional compassion that had, more than once, been the foundations of some of his un-Jedi like attitudes. It wasn't that he couldn't control his emotions; it was rather that he had been taught by his master to feel them when they came for that was the make of a true Jedi and also because of the general goodness in his heart that made him somewhat different than his fellow Padawans.

He was not like his master in the sense that he cared for all individuals of the Living Force, but one who cared deeply for those he was often familiar with and maybe a little beyond that. He knew he was not as practiced as his master to find a hidden beauty within the smallest _Tenin_ bush or the largest _Colcor_ tree but he was learning…if slowly.

And all of these thoughts were making him feel dreadfully lonely again. He ought to go find something to do. What would it be today? He glanced at the chrono chipping away the time on the wall. The salle's would be empty now. Maybe he should go practice some sparring; there was a kata he and Qui-Gon had been working on that he had not yet perfected. He decided that he would love to see his master's reaction if he taught himself. Not only that, it would give him something to put his restless muscles to work at which inevitably meant for a good night's sleep that night.

In slow steady steps he left the large dinning hall and found his way onto the familiar path to the training salles. Sunlight was just barely peeking over the horizon and into the large windows in the halls, but to Obi-Wan it was a reminder that another day was dawning and whether it would be one spent in solitude or relief. He gazed forlornly at the incessant rivers of air traffic, wishing that one of those silver birds were his master coming back from a successful mission.

He sighed and turned his head away from the glass and kept his head down until he reached the first corridor of large training arenas. A few Jedi were practicing, he could hear the faint _snap_ and _hiss_ of their 'sabers as some dueled, but it didn't take him very far to find an empty room free of the sound of the others…or anything for that matter.

Good, he thought. Exactly what I wanted.

And yet didn't.

He shrugged off his large brown cloak and outer tunic. It would take him a few tries to perfect the kata without the large clothes and even more with. Qui-Gon had often told him that every little thing can add up to something larger than what he had ever expected in the past. Taking a kata step by step was on example of what he meant.

He pulled out the familiar hilt of his 'saber and walked into position one. The T'astel kata was unlike many of his preceding ones that he had learned. Instead of turning on his 'saber right away, a combination of kicks, twists and jumps were substituted. It was only near the middle of the kata that his blade was even drawn and even then, the defense depended heavily on bodily attack than material. That was probably why he was having such a difficult time understanding it. He would grow too eager too quickly and ignited his lightsaber at the wrong time—which had always led to a series of snake like burns on his clothes and skin.

But this time was different. This time he would not make the same mistakes. He had learned much since then and he would do his master proud if he could actually show him—or lack of—how much he had learned.

He breathed very slowly, drawing in the warm Force into his skin, like a fish submerged in water after a prolonged stay on land. To his immediate surprise the storm of emotions that had bogged him down the past few days disappeared and was replaced by a soothing calm that sunk into the deepest part of his heart. He was ready.

His sounds were silent, booted feet sliding and pouncing on the padded floor in a hush. His breathing was more silent than a whisper of a breeze and his clothes hardly ruffled with his movements. If one were to walk into the room without watching, they may easily have passed the salle for empty. But even while looking one would think that the apprentice was an apparition than a corporeal being, almost as if he absorbed the silence around him and emitted its calming tones. His movements gave him the appearance of a ghostly figure, materializing from one spot to the other in an ethereal unison. Wraithlike he was, save for the pure façade his face held—a look of concentration, fortitude, calmness and intent bent into one.

With a soft _hiss_,_ snap_, the silvery blue blade came to life and committed itself to his quiet movements. The sword of everlasting light bent and prowled with his body, acting like a third arm or an extension of his intent or a tangible form of his untainted concentration. However many descriptions an observer can make the one fact one can utter is that the whole dance, fight, practice, song was beautiful—utterly beautiful.

And when the mellifluous dance was completed, a gasp of sheer respect was conventional. But the only sound Obi-Wan heard was his own labored breathing in the large room. There was no applause, no gapes, not even a nod of respect. There was only this thick silence broken by his own sounds, but it was enough to fill him with such an pride, he did not think his erratic breathing could even account for the amount of work he had put himself into. He had did it and that was enough for him.

His smile was slow in coming but it found its way onto his reddened face and stayed there…and remained on his lips when he turned around and looked in the corner where his likewise smiling master was standing. The Jedi Master walked across the room and stood high above his beaming apprentice with a look only few could say they had seen upon his face—his Padawan one of those few, and he was well worth deserving it.

It was this simple expression that was the only thing that Obi-Wan yearned for. This smallest glitter of satisfaction and joy reflecting in those piercing blue eyes were enough. No words were needed to be said. This was enough.

The Jedi Master placed a hand on the youths shoulder, squeezing it tenderly before they stepped out of the room and into the radiant sun.

**The End**

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A/N: Please Review:) 


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